


Death Song

by sian1359



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, M/M, POV First Person, Reconciliation, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-18
Updated: 2005-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Naboo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Song

**Author's Note:**

> 'nother old fic
> 
> Written for Gloriana and Emu's Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience Zine, published 2005. 
> 
> The concept behind this story came out of listening to the soundtrack from Once More With Feeling (BtVS) way too many times, and deciding that a Qui-Gon who 'survived' Naboo might have many of the same feelings of displacement that Buffy did after own her resurrection. Additionally, some of the ideas came from a conversation Lori and I had many years ago about the possibility that Yoda had known all along what would happen with Anakin and the destruction of the Jedi. 99% of this story is as printed in the zine, but in coding for the website, I discovered a duplicated line (which may or may not have been a technical instead of writing error), and made a couple of other 'fixes' to a sentence or a scene. I just can't help myself.
> 
> Without Gloriana and Emu's diligence, encouragement and mighty red pens, this story wouldn't be anywhere near as coherent.

*******

**7056.208.10  
** Healers Hall  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

Dr. mm'Brai insists that I write down the words I cannot say. That doing so will make my thoughts easier to deal with. Thinking them, writing them, reading them - each time I confront them, their impact will lessen. He doesn't understand, however, and so I am debating not going back to him.

Words are for negotiations and lessons, for communicating with those who are not Jedi. Once said they become memory or are forgotten. They are static. Words can mean anything and, as I learned traveling with my master, therefore they mean nothing.

Real thoughts, emotions -- everything that is important to a Jedi is communicated and understood through the Force.

A lifetime ago I was considered an Adept with the Force, a Jedi Master. A moment ago -- on a cosmic scale -- I had been one with the Force. Truly, and in the utter finality of interpretations of such phrasing.

At last I have found words worth writing down:

_Qui-Gon Jinn had been One With the Force._

And now I'm not. Not an Adept. Not even a Jedi for all that Mace and Yoda claim I still am. They believe, as do the healers, that as I regain my physical strength, so too will I regain my Force strength. As for myself... I do not share their confidence.

I cannot find my own.

All I do know is that I am currently as mind blind as Dr. mm'Brai and the other ninety-nine percent of the intelligent beings in the Republic. I am uncomfortable within my own body and can barely recognize my own mind. So much of what I used to be able to sense -- to do -- is gone. A grand irony, therefore, to have finally been granted leave to train the child for whom the word Adept is too meager a description of his potential within the Force. The same child that just a month ago the Council had not only refused to allow me to train, but had decided was unworthy of ever becoming a Jedi. The Chosen One.

_In light of the new data we have ascertained regarding Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn's petition has been reconsidered and is now granted._

No apology from the High Council for publicly dismissing my competence or for doubting my deductions regarding both Anakin and the Sith; barely even a 'welcome back' and 'we're sorry you died'. A half-hearted, 'glad you got better'. And now I need to accept this duty, one likely impossible, even were I at the top of my game.

(Ah, the discontent and ill-will I sowed by questioning their High wisdom when they deigned to visit me in my convalescence. I will pay for that, I suspect, but I must insure that Anakin and others do not suffer during my penance. )

Before I died, I had championed Anakin at the expense of my and Obi-Wan's future together. Even as the Council was dismissing my judgment about Anakin's birthright and potential, I dismissed theirs of his unsuitability, along with Obi-Wan's warnings of the dangers associated with the boy.

Ironic, that we were all right. Yet also all so very wrong.

At the moment of my death I had my vindication for bringing Anakin from Tatooine and the Chosen One to the Temple. I was at peace with my life and my legacy. Leaving Obi-Wan was my only regret -- although in him, too, I saw that I had done enough. He would become the wise man and great asset to the Jedi I had long envisioned.

Vindication, satisfaction, pride, peace... and finally a release from all the burdens life asked of me. That was a moment – the moment – I could hold onto and live within. It was beautiful and wonderful and something that now I can barely imagine, much less remember as being real.

I was one with the greatest power of and in all of creation, and would stay in this state of grace... forever.

A forever that, remarkably, lasted only thirteen days.

Qui-Gon let the pen settle in his lap and flexed his fingers. They were stiff, but not from the bout of arthritis he'd been hiding from Obi-Wan for the past two years. It was simply from the odd use he was putting them through: the physical act of writing instead of typing, and the awkwardness of gripping a pen with fingers that normally held a lightsaber. He didn't think he'd used a pen for anything but treaty and contract signings in something like forty years.

"Problems, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon looked up hastily, still unused to not being able to sense another's approach through the Force.

"Not particularly, Master. Why do you ask?" At least he was already sitting, and did not have to struggle up to greet unexpected visitors. And quite unexpected this one was. It had been most of a year since Qui-Gon had last seen his former master.

"You were scrubbing at your eyes, Padawan. Something I remember you doing when you had a headache, but were too proud to ask for my assistance." Jard Dooku glided through the doorway with a strength and grace many Jedi half his age envied.

The bareness of the walls around them and the basic, functional furniture didn't hold his penetrating gaze for more than a moment; but it was long enough for Qui-Gon to be amused by the look of disdain Jard then quickly schooled his face against. "A little austere for you, is it not, Qui-Gon? I would have thought you'd have had half your garden moved in here by now. That," and he gestured to the little, spidery-leafed plant Obi-Wan and Anakin had brought to Qui-Gon the first day they'd been allowed past the healers, "is hardly a sufficient representative."

"A gift from my padawans, Master." Qui-Gon's use of the plural was deliberate, to see if Jard had heard about Anakin yet.

Jard came to a stop at the foot of Qui-Gon's bed and looked him over. "You need more life around you, Qui-Gon. This place is much too sterile for one like you. No doubt that is why you have your headache."

Another might question the harshness of Jard's tone, but Qui-Gon knew there was only concern behind the precise diction, and he responded with a warm smile, shelving the news about Anakin for the moment.

"It's not actually a headache, Master," he amended. "I also fuss with my eyes when I'm trying to make out writing that is too small." He showed Jard the journal before closing it and slipping it under one of his pillows.

" _Your_ pen scratches? I'm not surprised. I was never so happy as when I insisted you use a padd for your lessons and mission reports, despite Yoda's preference that everyone learn to use primitive writing sticks and paper. Trying to read your writing gave me a headache." Jard frowned as he smoothed at his close-cut beard, then contradicted his criticism by placing his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Qui-Gon's attention was caught by the movement and the look of unaccustomed fondness he read in Jard's eyes. He supposed his death -- his alleged death -- could account for his master's surprising intimacy, but surely that didn't also explain Jard's hair losing so much of its silver? It was salt and pepper now -- Qui-Gon still had a memory of it being silver all over. And there had been so many more lines on the man's forbidding face…

Just as there should have been a beard and moustache on Qui-Gon's own, and the slight pull of gravity from hair hanging down to the middle of his back. Why had the healers needed to cut so much of it off?

"Qui-Gon, are you sure you are feeling alright?"

Not even Master Yoda was as skilled at making Qui-Gon feel like an initiate again, nor at voicing a mild reprimand while also professing concern. "Yes, Master," he nodded, bringing his scattered thoughts back in line. "I feel fine. I feel better than fine, actually, if bored," he offered with a bemused shrug. "Frankly, I couldn't tell you why I'm still here instead of being able to return to my quarters. I don't suppose you would consider interceding on my behalf with Healer Renzha?" he continued with a sly smile: one that he'd never had as much success in using against his master, as Obi-Wan had had against him.

But discomfort now replaced Jard's expression of concern as Qui-Gon's attempt to cajole fell flat. Quite surprised, Qui-Gon watched Jard's eyes slide past his own, before his former master turned away and began to rearrange the utensils on Qui-Gon's food tray, in an extremely uncharacteristic display of nervousness.

"The healers still need to monitor you," Jard finally said in a flat tone.

"They need to monitor me every minute, Master? Why ever for? The only ill effect I seem to have from being skewered by a Sith is the damn scar. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Renzha and the others are disappointed that I am _not_ bedridden by anything more than their say-so, and are punishing me instead for their puzzlement over my good health. Certainly, other than becoming too easily fatigued, I feel more alive, more vital… In fact, I would say I feel at least as good as I did when I first accepted Obi-Wan as my padawan, ten, maybe fifteen years younger –”

That got Jard to turn back round. "And you also feel nothing of the Force, Padawan!" he thundered, his eyes dark. "There are risks, potential dangers that must be considered. You have done something no other living Jedi can claim by returning to life, and they need to be sure-"

"I'm a case study, you mean." At least this time Jard had sounded a lot more convincing in his concern, which made Qui-Gon's harsh interruption stand out all the more. "My being cooped up here and allowed out only with supervision has nothing to do with my temporary lack of access to the Force."

"Are you sure it's temporary, Qui-Gon?"

Jard's question took away Qui-Gon's breath.

"The healers have given me no indication that I won't recover my rapport with the Force," he hedged, while wondering whether they _would_ make such a pronouncement to him.

"The healers know nothing!" Jard said, with something akin to real anger.

"Perhaps, Master, but neither do _you_ when it comes to how someone recovers from being _dead_." Qui-Gon was angry too, and he didn't have the Force to release it into. "As I am the only Jedi on record with such insight, _I_ am sure the loss is only temporary. For thirteen days I was so much more than this corporeal body, and I cannot begin to fathom not being able to touch a fraction of what I found then. The Force simply isn't that cruel."

"It's not benevolent or cruel, Qui-Gon." Jard threw out his hand. "The Force just _is_. It doesn't subscribe to any feeling or have any desires of its own. For thirteen days, you were just _dead_."

"And now I am back and there are very few who wouldn't call that a Force blessing." Qui-Gon took a deep breath, lest he reveal that he was one of the few, which was not a discussion he wanted to have with anyone quite yet. "I have never understood why, after all of your years studying the Force in depth, you won't acknowledge the… affinity we as Jedi share with it, Master."

"You forget yourself, Padawan. I have indeed made a life-long study of the Force -- of _all_ aspects of the Force -- and I imagine I understand the nature of your… affinity. Possibly even better than Yoda himself, which is why _I_ haven't made a religion out of it as so many of his other disciples have. Your affinity is just a fundamental aspect of existence that zealots before us named -- and divided into Light and Dark -- instead of simply accepting and learning to control."

"And if we really were only the followers of a religion as you subscribe, you'd be speaking heresy, Master," Qui-Gon cautioned softly. While he could understand that a purely intellectual interest in the Force needed to include some understanding of the Dark Side, Qui-Gon had never been completely comfortable with the… diligence of his former master's pursuit of that area of knowledge.

Jard's expression twisted into one both rueful and vexed. "Your warning is well given, since we are more or less in public. I suppose I should take care to avoid yet another talking down from the Council." The last one had been over the very public falling out his master had had with Master Sifo-Dyas, that resulted in both of them being censured by the High Council.

Something like a smile now graced Jard's face, but came nowhere near his eyes, although there was a softening to their darkness. "It is unfortunate that rebelliousness is one of the few things we have in common, Padawan. I never intended that my discontent foster your own."

Qui-Gon acknowledged the sentiment with a nod and gave back a more natural smile. "We all influence those around us, but I rather believe we are born with some innate personality traits as fundamental as the Force." He shrugged. "Yet one more debate perhaps best left for easier times. But you have only to look at my padawans to know that Obi-Wan and Anakin will never be alike, despite both having me as their master."

Jard stiffened, and for a moment Qui-Gon thought that his fallen padawan would be mentioned.

Instead, Jard made an obvious effort to relax his posture. "Yes, I have heard that you are taking a new padawan. I'm surprised the Council agreed given your current… disabilities. Rumor has it he is from the Outer Rim and without any sort of training, someone entirely unsuitable."

Qui-Gon sighed. He had to wonder just how much _accurate_ information Jard had uncovered, and from what source. The rumors about Anakin were already making the rounds, of course, no doubt in part fueled by the boy’s own chatter. He wondered, too, which factor had already soured his former master: Anakin's own boasting, his past as a slave -- or the prophecy.

"Even _you_ wouldn't say that if you met him, Master," he replied. "He is a bright and joyous soul despite the unfortunate circumstances of his life before I found him. He may be behind his age-peers with regard to schooling and Force-skills, but that won't hold him back for long. He is very eager to learn."

"Very eager to become a Jedi, you mean." Jard's frown deepened. "Something about gaining the power to go back and free all of the slaves from the Hutts?"

Suppressing a groan, Qui-Gon answered. "A laudable goal, isn't it? One that any one of us would pursue were it possible, and not dissimilar to wanting to eradicate the Black Sun organization, or overhaul the stagnation in the Senate." Both of those were desires Jard had expressed on more than one occasion to his agreeing padawan.

Jard acknowledged the hit with a nod of his head. "But the Chosen One, Qui-Gon? It is unfathomable to me how you, who do not believe in your own pada-- former padawan's prescience, still believe in a prophecy thousands of years old. And worse, you have passed on that ridiculous notion to a nine-year-old boy, who is all too eager to prove himself worthy of being here. You are an idealistic fool –”

"Master," Qui-Gon interrupted with a calm he didn't really feel. "Have you even met the boy yet, before you've judged him? Before you've judged me?"

For a second something burned in Jard's eyes. They narrowed, and in the next stilled breath Qui-Gon saw flickering, fleeting images overshadowing Jard's stony expression, saw…

"Qui-Gon?"

Without him being aware, Jard had taken hold of his shoulder again. Now he had a headache, and a pain as if he were being run through by the Sith’s blade once more.

"Master, I'm sorry," he managed to get out, "but I-"

"Yes, I can quite tell that I have overstayed my visit." Although Jard had never been the most demonstrative of masters (another trait Qui-Gon feared he now emulated all too well), there was suddenly something unnaturally remote about him, something haunted in the shadows that veiled his eyes.

Something haunted… and haunting.

Thirteen days passed between my falling to the Sith's weapon and reawakening here in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. I have been in a coma or two before; the first time only two years after Jard had taken me as his padawan. That one lasted for twenty-seven days, and upon awakening I had simply lost those days. I'd retained no memories of any time passing whatsoever, no dreams and certainly no visions. And it was the same each other time I've been so stricken. No subconscious awareness of time's passage and no conscious awareness of the Force… until now.

This time it was exactly as the mystics and poets have theorized about death's domain. My awareness passed from the darkness that signals body-death. My mind floated free, outward and expanding until I could touch everything. My feelings and awareness of death, my last thoughts and concerns and regrets were still there, but muted and then subsumed by the wonder of being not just a part of, but _connected_ to the infinite.

I was thought and emotion; color, sound, energy -- _every_ thing! Yet somehow still also Qui-Gon Jinn, still with a few of the most important mortal concerns and memories. All I needed to do was concentrate on the threads of those who had once mattered so --

Only to fall into a moment that quickly became stretched and twisted.

Instead of finding Obi-Wan as I had left him, I glimpsed a fully developed Jedi master at the height of his skill, yet who too quickly passed into a man grown old -- and dead -- well before his time. I saw Jard next (and yes, he was silver and aged). My sense of horror growing, I saw him fallen… Dark, and fighting his own master and my apprentice. Then Mace dying, the Temple and the Order destroyed. War and rebellion and Yoda -- _Yoda!_ \-- failing and fading. Throughout it all stood Anakin, the architect (and pawn?) behind the loss of absolutely everything I held dear.

Yet Anakin was also the catalyst that brought about the Light's return.

_The Chosen One who will bring balance to the Force._

And although I was weeping, I was becoming gladness instead of sorrow. Until those moments -- that future -- was shattered with my quickening breath.

I had traded my life for the end of the Sith. I had died and yet discovered peace.

I now live and have discovered I am... nothing.

*********

**7056.305.10  
** Healers Hall  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

Not daily as suggested, but at least I haven't waited a full ten and my next session with Dr. mm'Brai before returning to this journal.

After seven nights of fitful sleep, and brooding while awake through interminable days, I am beginning to believe that Dr. mm'Brai may know what he's talking about. None of my usual methods worked to quiet my thoughts until I sat down and reread my first entry. I really must remember to thank MindHealer DeNewa for suggesting I meet with him.

Tricee DeNewa has seen me through my first mission and my first kill; my first and subsequent loves as well as all of the heartbreaks in between; the death of my first padawan, and even Xanatos' turning. I have spoken to her of my feelings for Obi-Wan, especially in those first days when I discovered that they were developing beyond my control, long before it was proper or wise to be considering them. And I had even made an appointment to work out my feelings with the Council's decisions about Anakin and my mishandling of Obi-Wan’s nomination for the trials, knowing that I needed to talk to her before I made things worse with Obi-Wan.

Except that finishing the mission came first. The return of the Sith. Dying...

Being returned to life.

No one has yet explained to me how Obi-Wan managed that. He's been an exceptional padawan and will no doubt make a splendid knight and skilled master, but healing is not one of his strengths, for it relies too much on the Living Force and if my Obi-Wan has a true weakness –

But I know it was Obi-Wan. While I'd been dead, I had still felt him as he'd launched himself into the Force in search for my spirit. Time and again he reached, with his grief and his love as a focus. Yet I couldn't acknowledge it; could only turn him away lest he lose himself completely, and dissolve his own connections between spirit, mind and body, as I had done.

I had felt others, too: Mace and Jard and even Yoda, acknowledging my passing. I felt the weight and regard of every Jedi, each one touched by the loss we all feel when one of us passes, through the connection that we all share in the Force. But in the end it was only Obi-Wan, with strength of body and will, and the refusal of spirit to let me rest. He brought me back into a body that should only have died yet again from the trauma it had sustained. Into a body that should have already begun to rot and dissolve into its organic compounds, yet somehow had not only managed to begin functioning again, but was virtually healed by the time my awareness returned to it.

He brought me back despite every attempt _I_ made to stay.

The healers say only that this was the condition in which I was brought to them, and that they are monitoring me for potential…complications. I have not yet been able to discuss it with Obi-Wan. Although he visits me daily, he brings along Anakin; and this is not a conversation to be had in front of a young boy who will learn all too soon the dangers of the life he wants to pursue.

And so I stay…uneasy.

I know little of Naboo's science and the healers are not granting me access to anything but preloaded data handhelds, so I cannot even do the research. From what I do remember of my earlier studies, reliable stasis technology does exist, generally with cryogenics to allow the body to be revived with as little degradation as possible. But assuming the technology even exists on Naboo, why would they have wasted such resources on one already dead? Dying, critical, nigh until death perhaps, but …

I know that all spark of life had passed on. I lived -- or I supposed _died_ \-- through it. Yet our bond was still there and somehow Obi-Wan achieved the impossible.

The unthinkable.

'The future is always in motion', Master Yoda is fond of saying. By calling me back, the destiny that had been looming over the Jedi and the Republic has been altered in ways not even our greatest prescients will be able to predict.

I sound ungrateful.

I suppose I am.

(There, Dr. mm'Brai. I've said -- written -- it.)

I do not yet accept that I am alive -- that I should _be_ alive. I am troubled in knowing that the future, dire though its coming would be, is now in danger of unfolding into something even worse.

And I am furious that the peace I had found at the end of all of the duty and heartache that was my life has been lost, perhaps forever.

In light of all of this, I don't know when -- if -- I can ever forgive Obi-Wan for refusing to let me go.

********

**7056.306.10  
** North Garden of Serenity  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

Yesterday I started to write of one thing, but meandered off, as my thoughts so often do of late. Jard's words from a week ago still haunt me, as do my feelings about coming back. But I feel I must first go back to writing about the decision to see Dr. mm'Brai before I forget what led me to that decision, or forget my initial impressions of the man.

(Another annoyance from my... estrangement from the Force; I must rely on words to keep my memories intact. Funny, this is proving one of the most difficult aspects of my return to deal with.)

Tricee's own sorrow and sympathy -- her guilt, I suppose -- for my current condition has gotten in the way of her being able to help me. Her suggestion to seek someone outside the Temple, while at first somewhat disturbing to consider, was exactly the right thing.

Dr. Esfith mm'Brai is human, probably twice my age, and has been paralyzed from the waist down ever since he was a teen. Additionally, he is completely Force-blind, and so my… condition has garnered no reflexive sympathies outside of a normal, respectful compassion. There is no history between us; no expectations, therefore, that I need to live up to other than the ones of my own making. He is good-naturedly unsympathetic of my complaints of pain and stiffness when I walk, while at the same time not assuming any sort of diminished mental capacity because I currently have to use a cane and dark glasses. The latter are to overcome the sensitivity to light I've discovered when leaving the Temple for the wild cacophony of light and movement that is Coruscant's environment.

For all that I feel the fittest I have been since first taking Obi-Wan as my padawan, I have found my balance shaky at best. I have to wonder if this is another outcome of my loss of the Force. Certainly I had used the Force all of my life. It had to have completely shaped not only my life and career, but the very growth of my body and my mannerisms, my movements and my perception of life around me. Now, without it, I have lost one of my major senses and, to my mind, the most important one.

It doesn't help that the rest of the Jedi look at me with something akin to horror in their eyes. I imagine my now Forceless aura is quite unpleasant to brush against, and I suppose they cannot help but subconsciously project such a loss onto themselves, to the point where they are uncomfortable just being near me. For my friends it is much worse, of course, although I would like to think I am behaving just as I always have -- well, at least as I do, during times of any lengthy convalescence.

I have never been at my most serene or... affable when wounded or ill.

Dr. mm'Brai, however, sees only someone in need of his aid -- someone he is confident that he can help. To him, regaining the Force is not the final goal. Regaining my center is.

Unfortunately, the solace that I achieve during our sessions rarely remains once I return to the Temple. I know I am still resentful -- and hurt -- that none of my friends understand I had accepted being dead. They can't even conceive that I am disturbed by now being alive. Yet they are the ones still with the Force-sense, dammit!

I haven't come out and said any of this, of course, especially not to Obi-Wan -- or, Force forfend, Anakin, who has decided the miracle of my resurrection is solely because of his wishes. If anything is to work out in my future, I expect to be living with both of them once I've been released from the Healers’ Wing, and so...

To be fair, Obi-Wan's talents are not based on empathy and intuition. I cannot expect him to see my return as anything other than a blessing. For years he has loved me and has recently come to fall in love with me. He could not bear my passing. Leaving him, too, was my only lasting regret, even if now I see it as selfishness on both our parts.

I know that Obi-Wan will begin to catalogue the differences -- my reticence and even my reluctance. He will put the pieces together in that ineffable mix of logic and wisdom that is his forte. But I can only hope that by then I will have at least found myself able to forgive him for his part in what has been done to me, even if I never quite abide the doing.

"If you keep frowning like that, your face will freeze, little sprout."

Qui-Gon gave a half laugh; it had been a long time since anyone had thought to call him sprout or even little -- some forty years and about four feet long.

"Tricee, you know I am not supposed to have visitors outside of my jail cell, where my poor, out-of-control emotions can be monitored. What are you trying to do, get the healers to revoke my parole?" He shook his head in mock temper.

A rustling that was a Neti's laughter came to him. Tricee began to regain her natural shape, from the somewhat humanoid form she had maintained while maneuvering through the Temple corridors into the garden. In just seconds, she rivaled the tree Qui-Gon had been leaning against, both in size and appearance.

"You know their concerns are valid," she scolded. "Should the Force suddenly return to you, there is a good chance your ability to shield will not."

"And I will be overwhelmed, which is why I must take my temporary furlough here in the Garden of Serenity."

More laughter and a sprinkling of blossom petals rained down upon him. "And so I will shelter you if needs be. Other than trapped and bored, then how are you feeling, young sapling?"

Without needing to ask, Qui-Gon quickly shifted his position to lean against the base of her trunk. She leaned over, and it was like the time he had spent in one of the willow groves next to a lake on Alderaan, with trails of small leaves brushing against his face. There the willows had created a curtain of peace, with only the wind and a faint trickling of water from a fall somewhere beyond the grove to intrude upon his meditations. "Are you asking as my counselor, or as my friend, Tricee?" he directed upward, stretching and molding himself further into the hollow that shaped around him.

"I suppose I cannot be both?"

Qui-Gon shifted his shoulders and then his torso, trying to find a comfortable position against the support she was offering. His discomfort, however, was not coming from his physical body. "Not yet," he sighed. "I have only begun to accept that my time with Dr. mm'Brai is proving productive. We haven't really worked through those things you and I cannot yet speak of."

"Then we will only sit here together, my dearest bloom. Write or mediate or even sleep, and I will simply offer sanctuary."

********

**7056.109.11  
** Living Quarters of Qui-Gon Jinn  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

After most of a month trapped within the bare (soothing, ha!) four walls of a medical cubicle, I am finally home. I actually managed to sleep through most of the night last night; only now has Healer Renzha admitted that my frequent awakenings and night terrors were the reason I hadn't been released a ten ago. My physical therapy in getting around without the Force will still continue, of course. As will my 'sessions' with Tricee. There are certainly things I could begin to tell her now, but there is still my loss of the Force that she is having trouble dealing with -- or I am.

Perhaps in a ten or so, when I grow inured to how my brethren react to my presence.

Although now that I have finally had access to my first mirror, I begin to understand some of their looks. It appears that Jard is not the only one missing facial lines and silver in his hair. Of course, I am missing a lot more than just the silver, with most of my hair hacked off. If I didn't know any better, just by looking at my face I would say I was somewhere in my mid-thirties, instead of nearing sixty. Of course, even then I had my beard, and so the comparison doesn't quite hold up. (I know beards can age someone's appearance. It's why I grew it in the first place --and also to hide what I've always considered a weak chin). But this... this _youthful_ face is ridiculous and not at all inspiring! I don't care how it might look in the meantime, but I'm growing the beard back starting tomorrow, and I don't care how comely the apprentice is who offers to shave me.

Obi-Wan has informed me that Master Yoda will be keeping Anakin with him for my first few days home. Certainly my intentions to pursue a relationship with Obi-Wan on his knighthood have been known to the leaders of the High Council for years, but I suspect this is designed more to keep up the boy's training than to smooth Obi-Wan's and my chance to reconnect without interruption or distraction.

Nor do I think Yoda would have come up with the idea on his own, if Obi-Wan hadn't asked for this opportunity. For all his great age, wisdom and life experience, Yoda finds the various mating imperatives of us... lesser species baffling and unproductive. Yet Obi-Wan - not I, I note - has always been Master Yoda's favorite, and so the opportunity is ours.

Our future relationship aside, this will at last afford me the chance to discuss Naboo with Obi-Wan, as it is unlikely that anyone else -- even Jard -- will intrude upon us during my first days back.

I've never been convinced Jard approves of Obi-Wan. He's been too conspicuously absent during Obi-Wan's apprenticeship, in direct contrast to his constant presence when I needed advice with regard to Xanatos. Maybe it's just that he finally decided I did know what I was doing.

Whether he approves or not of my changing relationship with Obi-Wan, Jard certainly knows -- better than even members of the High Council -- of my intractability when it comes to having my own way when I know that I am right. I haven't needed a lick of prescience since Obi-Wan turned seventeen to know that we would eventually come together.

Of course, maybe if I did have a modicum of that talent, I would have been able to prepare Obi-Wan for the eventuality of Naboo. Or found a way to avoid the whole damn mess in the first place. Too, I have to wonder why Master Yoda didn't foresee my death, not to mention the return of the Sith. And if he did, why didn't he prepare Obi-Wan?

I suspect the outcome on Naboo -- or its aftermath -- is why the little green troll hasn't been around much since my return. Perhaps he has foreseen what, exactly, I'm going to say to him when I get the opportunity.

**********

**7056.203.11  
** Living Quarters of Qui-Gon Jinn  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

Qui-Gon looked at the journal with something akin to loathing. He needed to write in it -- had several things needing to be said and then released - but there were some things words would never be able to express.

Instead he decided to try something else that usually granted him ease, and for the next hour he watered and pruned and talked to the profusion of plants that probably occupied too much of his quarters.

Finished at last, he dropped onto the couch with little grace and picked the journal up.

I never expected to wish I was back in the Healers’ Wing instead of in my own home. Everything here seems strange, somehow lifeless or at least muddied, or is that muddled? Certainly after great injury and a long convalescence -- not to mention death -- my body should be weakened, not energized. But it is as if all of my new vitality comes somehow from draining the environment around me.

Perhaps it all simply is a byproduct of being dead.

Is that it? Because I cannot _feel_ the joy, I cannot see the true colors any longer nor hear the music?

I have gone without the Force before, in training and because of outside agencies. Ninety-nine percent of all lifeforms in our universe live without the Force. They seem to thrive just as well as those of us granted its blessing. Is living really this muted for them?

Or are my quarters only muted because I've discovered that Obi-Wan no longer lives in them?

I love him with all of my being, and I have been waiting years to come to know his most spectacular body in the way of two people in love. But I cannot just forget what he has done, to me and to the future, and so to not have him nearby as a constant reminder -- In some ways the fact that he has chosen to take up his prerogative of knights’ quarters makes things simpler, because I am torn between conflicting emotions.

Despite my current displeasure with him, I find I am quite unhappy to learn that Obi-Wan's own quarters are several floors below mine. Not even one spire over, much less miles away -- but my own former master lives only one floor above me, and the number of times we've gotten together, other than the casual encounters in corridors or public rooms, is so few that I could probably recall each of them were I to bother. The thought of a permanent, similar distancing from Obi-Wan --

Stars' end! Might that be what this is about? That, because Anakin has already moved into the room that had been Obi-Wan's for thirteen years, and because I haven't -- couldn't before now, actually -- invited him to stay, he has moved into one of the transient quarters to avoid being underfoot? I've been uncomfortable around him and downright petulant while in the Healers Hall; is he simply giving me space until I get back to normal?

Although always solicitous in his care for me when I've been disabled, for the last several years Obi-Wan has also, upon occasion, let me suffer in my own foolishness, and never has he particularly hovered or molly-coddled me, allowing me instead to recover -- or not -- at my own pace.

Dammit! He should know this is not just me being grumpy. Can he really be so unaware of what he's done to me?

All I know for sure is that he is... troubled. My own needs are not meshing with his. They are, in fact, mostly contrary to his, and to the desires I had let him become aware of once he'd reached his majority. We'd made plans, he and I, for the occasion of his knighting, and I know he must now be greatly disappointed.

But I cannot pretend to what I cannot feel.

He clings to the belief that my reticence is because of my inability to connect with the Force. That, because all of my senses are muted, so too are my emotions. I do not want to hurt him, as I do still love him. And so I do not yet correct him of this notion, even as I begin to believe I know the real nature behind my anger and my... ennui.

Certainly I have been dancing around it all through this journal.

While I was dead, I was also one with the Force. Not as a Jedi but as something so much bigger -- deeper. I _was_ the Force, a being of pure light and transcendence. I had achieved the ultimate goal, the ultimate state for any living being, but especially for a Jedi. One with the Force, with the engine and light of creation and now I am simply one tiny little mote that will again be gone in less than a cosmic blink -- except this time there is no surety that my next passing will matter. Or that I will be welcomed back.

Does a god care that you've been stolen from his side, or just that you have left?

How do I say any of this to Tricee, or Dr. mm'Brai? Or even to Obi-Wan or Master Yoda? They would think it fear -- or ego. That Qui-Gon Jinn was worried about his legacy and his afterlife.

Can I tell any of them it is only the future that concerns me? _Live in the here and now_ has long been my credo, as well as a frequent source of reprimand for Obi-Wan. Even now, perhaps all the more because of what has happened and what I know, I must do so or go crazy, for the future that was, is gone.

And so I remain silent and defer to these little lies, even knowing that eventually I will be caught out. Will any of my relationships survive the denouement?

*********

**7056.207.11  
** Living Quarters of Qui-Gon Jinn  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

Anakin is now officially a padawan, and Obi-Wan, a knight. The Council elected to combine their ceremonies, which I am not sure was fair to either of them, but as Obi-Wan really hadn't had a proper ceremony when he became my padawan either, and Anakin hasn't grown up knowing what to expect...

It's nice -- and a bit surprising -- to see the two of them getting along so well, considering their meeting and the subsequent jealousies between them.

Actually, I had thought Obi-Wan had already been knighted. His missing braid was one of the first things I was cognizant of upon my awakening. Comes to happen that it had been another casualty of the fight against the Sith and I hadn't even asked. Hadn't asked if Obi-Wan had sustained any injury himself, so absorbed was I with my own -- well, with my relative lack of injury, considering I had been dead.

There is only the scar on my chest, and even that will fade to almost nothing, the healers say. It's rather odd, as I would have thought something that... invasive (not to mention having a new heart and lung transplanted) would leave more traces on my body. Is this how Master Yoda has lived for hundreds of years? Not so much a species trait, but because he has new organs grown and transplanted every fifty or sixty years whether he needs them or not? I can just see him petitioning the Council and the Healers…

Could this apparent restoration to the health of my younger years be the legacy of my greater communion with the Force? Well, it didn't fix my nose.

I suppose I should tell Healer Renzha that I have been experiencing glimmers of the Force, but then he would tell the Council, and should one of them mention it to Obi-Wan…

I imagine most of the High Council has decided I will _not_ recover. I also imagine at least a couple of them are rather glad in that assumption, which is almost reason to tell everyone right now of my change in condition.

But Obi-Wan deserves to know first. Anakin, second, I suppose, since he is now my responsibility, even if it is others who are training him at the moment. No doubt Anakin would be happy to learn his master can probably do all of the things he is supposed to be able to.

In the meantime, the Council has decided that, even without my Force sense, because I was the one who encountered the tattooed creature on both Tatooine and Naboo, I am the best person to unravel whether the resurfacing of our ancient enemy at this time was planned or accidental. Mace and Adi hope that I have more information about the Sith that I just haven't remembered yet. So far, however, I only remember the pain, and then Obi-Wan's presence at my side as I died.

Another memory I could have lived within forever, before it became tainted by knowing what Obi-Wan did after.

The door buzzer broke into Qui-Gon's thoughts. Taking care with the ink that was still drying, he closed the pages and placed the journal in his side of the large desk he and Obi-Wan shared, before moving to the entry door.

"You do realize that you're not getting any quicker in answering?" was Mace's first comment when Qui-Gon finally admitted his guests.

"And _you_ realize that you're not getting any quicker in wit?" Qui-Gon responded in kind.

"Both of you, just stop," came from Adi, who had moved automatically to place herself in between both men. "We're here to check on your well-being, Qui-Gon, not to see which of you can piss the other off the quickest. Both of you _do_ realize that even most padawans don't have to constantly prove to each other which one is bigger?"

"Oh, _you_ are, Adi," Mace and Qui-Gon said in tandem, and then laughed to find themselves so in synch again. Along with his restored vitality, that was one of few positive things that had come out of Qui-Gon's death and resurrection. Remarkably, he and Mace had found their friendship again, after too many years of acrimony and arguments.

"And don't either of you forget it," Adi quipped right back, bringing herself up to her full height, only a couple of inches shy of Mace.

"So what's on the agenda today?" Qui-Gon began as the three of them settled. During his daily check-in, Obi-Wan had already taken Anakin away to lessons, after setting up light refreshments. Qui-Gon only needed to signal the server droid that Anakin had dragged in and fixed a ten ago to bring them over.

"No more Sith, please," Adi said with a deep sigh from her place on the couch next to Mace. "I know we're not done yet, but I have had quite enough of such discussions already today. Masters Rancisis and Yaddle have both decided to... help, and so I've spent the entire morning going over all of the things we have already discussed. Twice."

Qui-Gon leaned back in the chair and instructed the little R5 to open the privacy shield that obscured the vista from the couch. Room sensors automatically accounted for any glare, darkening the transparisteel several steps, but still allowing in the ambient light of midday.

"I remember when I had a view like that. Tell me, Adi, why is it as Councilors, we give up the perks instead of increasing them?" Mace groused.

"You still have plenty of perks," Qui-Gon snorted. "And all you have to do is take another padawan to get back these types of quarters."

"I have headaches enough, thank you."

"I’ll make sure I pass that little tidbit on to Depa," Adi grinned. "She'll be happy to hear that she is so fondly remembered, not as a gifted padawan or even an exceptional councilor, but as the source of Mace's worst headache. Even more than you, Qui-Gon."

"Depa knows very well she is loved, and I was thinking more of Siri and your own headaches, Adi dear. But speaking of padawans…" Mace looked past Adi to Qui-Gon, his expression taking on a more sober mien.

"And love?" Qui-Gon finished Mace's thought with a sigh. "Or were you referring to Anakin?"

"No, you were right the first time, although I do have to stop thinking of him as a padawan. Did you know Obi-Wan came to see me this morning?"

Hoping the tightness that he felt wasn't being transmitted through his expression, Qui-Gon gave something like a shrug. "As you just said, Mace, Obi-Wan is no longer a padawan. Nor, if I think about it, have I restricted his comings and goings since he was fifteen."

"Ah, so you really aren't talking to each other?"

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes but made no other response. The one disadvantage of knowing someone so well and for so long was that even Mace Windu could intuit what Qui-Gon _wasn't_ saying.

"I've not been intimidated by that look since _you_ were fifteen, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan is looking for answers, or at least advice. That he's finally come to me, I can only imagine is because he doesn't feel he can come to you -- or Yoda. Is this really the type of relationship you were planning on having with a knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

I haven't minded the visits by Mace and Adi; it's nice that not all of my friends have abandoned me. And when we are discussing the return of the Sith, I can focus solely on intellectual concerns and not the emotional ones that are too often still plaguing me. I have felt that at least during those kinds of discussions, I was still contributing something vital to the Order.

But apparently that contribution is being offset by the... damage I am doing to their newest knight.

Certainly the distance between us has gotten no better. Whereas before, I'd wanted only to talk to Obi-Wan, now I share the culpability for avoidance. I realize it is only the familiarity of routine that has been advancing our current interactions. Until Mace's revelation that Obi-Wan _is_ concerned about our distance, I'd been feeling that my former padawan might as well just be one more of my therapists: concerned for my well-being and recovery, and so personally involved, but only when we are together; which isn't all that often. And when we are -- I can now recognize the exact moment his mind wanders to whatever it is that Master Yoda and the Reconciliation Council have planned for his first solo mission as a knight. Those moments are coming with more frequency, especially as I prove more and more capable of taking care of myself even without the Force.

I should tell him --

Out of disgust, trepidation or even maybe some form of delayed gratification, Qui-Gon tossed the journal aside.

********

**7056.209.11  
** Living Quarters of Qui-Gon Jinn  
Jedi Temple, Coruscant 

Anakin is creeping around me today. He knows that I do not feel well, that I have had a debilitating headache for two days, and so he didn't want to go off to his classes. But I definitely needed the time alone to meditate.

And to write in this journal, as I have found it has become a habit, and not doing so is actually interfering with my ability to find my center.

Anakin spends much of our time together watching me. I wish I could tell whether it is solicitude, fear or selfishness that is motivating him, but although many of my Force abilities are slowly returning, the ability to read my own padawan is not one of them. If I had to guess, I would say that Anakin is afraid that I'll somehow disappear or die on him again, and so he wishes me well -- but more for his own benefit than my own. He is understandably floundering in adjusting to his surroundings. This is all so new to him, and in ways that no other padawan has ever had to deal with. In a way we have unexpected common ground between us: there is no one else who can really understand how out of step we feel. How alone.

I must try to reach Anakin better, and maybe that can be my starting point. That, and a different understanding of fear than he has likely received from either Obi-Wan or Master Yoda. Not all fears and angers lead to the Dark Side, and many, indeed, can be outgrown or explained away.

(It was Obi-Wan who taught me that, much to my shame, and it took me much longer to discover than it should have. But a large share of Obi-Wan's anger in his youth was based on a confused reaction to injustice. Such anger, such passion -- at last I came to recognize that they were actually two of the things that kept Obi-Wan grounded in the Light. They were his way of offsetting his lesser connection to the Living Force. His passion allows Obi-Wan to champion the cause, if not the person.)

But is it -- will it -- also be the same with Anakin? At the moment I can only hope it is fear behind Anakin's concern, for if it is not, if it is instead from selfishness or some form of jealousy…

Well, that also, he could have too easily learned from Obi-Wan.

Granted, Obi-Wan's initial jealousy of Anakin was in part brought on by my own actions (especially before the High Council). I had thought he'd gotten over it, forgiven Anakin if not myself, but Obi-Wan could also just be covering up or denying his negative feelings in light of his almost losing me.

I have long suspected much of Obi-Wan's ready willingness to acquiesce to my orders was drawn only from my role as his master, and from his intrinsic respect for others and then his growing love for me. He has never blithely accepted that I am always right. Unfortunately, pointing out his flaws has always been a struggle for us both. (In Xanatos I had ignored too many, so for Obi-Wan, I made sure to speak them all. Let us hope that in Anakin I have finally found the proper equilibrium.)

The comm, again, and this time with an urgency chime added. Qui-Gon slammed the journal back down on the desk and jammed the pen between the pages he'd been filling.

Were these constant interruptions an ongoing conspiracy to keep him from finding his calm -- or simply the Force's entirely too capricious sense of humor? Either way, Qui-Gon was beginning to feel all too put upon.

"Jinn!" and he didn't care that his tone would sound harsh to whoever was calling on the other end.

"Master?"

Except if it was Anakin.

Qui-Gon quickly took a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. "Yes, Padawan?"

"I, um... ur... I... I tried to -- I commed Obi-Wan first, but he isn't answering-and-I-am-really-sorry-to-bother-you-when-you're-not-feeling-well-but-I-left-for-the-afternoon-lessons-without-remembering-my-transport-pass-and-the-class-is-getting-ready-to-leave-for-a-field-trip-over-to-the-Senate-and-Instructor-Rianamu-can't-wait –”

"Slow down, Anakin, take a deep breath before you pass out and try it at a speed I can comprehend. I'm not one of your droids, remember." The quick shift from frustration to guilt to amusement wasn't helping Qui-Gon's headache. He found himself breathing deeper, as if that would somehow help calm Anakin down.

"Sorry, Master."

Anakin's deep breaths sounded more like a winded Tatooine eopie, but Qui-Gon could appreciate that the boy was trying.

"Now start again, Padawan. Your class is going on a field trip and you don't have your transport pass?"

"Yeah, I forgot it. And Instructor Rianamu says it will take too long for me to run back to my room to get it, that the transport will arrive before I can get back out here to the landing pad."

Which would account for some of the breathlessness -- the boy was outside, perhaps even beyond the energy dome that surrounded the Temple's landing pads and bays. Obi-Wan had mentioned Anakin's fascination with the many layers and depths to Coruscant, and Qui-Gon could well imagine that his padawan was currently peering over one of the edges for a better -- closer -- look.

"Did I know about this field trip, Anakin?"

"Ah... I thought I mentioned it to you both. Obi-Wan signed off on the acknowledgement form …"

Obi-Wan... Of course.

During moments like these, Qui-Gon had to wonder just who Anakin's master really was, himself or Obi-Wan. But to complain, even to himself, was to be more callous and unappreciative than Qui-Gon liked to think he was. Anakin needed every helping hand he could get, and even now Qui-Gon wasn't up to taking his padawan through everything.

"All right, Anakin. I'll bring it to you. Where did you leave the pass?" Because the Force alone knew where Anakin kept anything inside his bedroom.

"It's ah... it should be in one of the top drawers near my bedside. I almost always empty out my pockets and the belt pouch into one of them when I come home."

' _Almost_ always', and as if even that much of a clue would really help him. Qui-Gon had seen the state of those drawers.

They matched the rest of the other drawers, the shelves, half the floor and every other flat surface in Anakin's room save for his bed, all of which had been turned into parts storage. The actual tinkering, Qui-Gon was getting used to. Anakin seemed to be single-handedly trying to restore every inoperative droid the Temple mechanics had already discarded as unfixable.

It had been no wonder, yet still a thrill, to discover that even when Anakin had been staying over at Master Yoda’s while Qui-Gon had been trapped in the Healers’ Hall, Obi-Wan had actually slept in Qui-Gon’s bed, rather than in the midst of Anakin’s litter. With his connection to the Force returning a little more each day, Qui-Gon could still sense Obi-Wan's aura lingering within the one room of their quarters that had never really held it before, even as most traces of him elsewhere were being overshadowed by Anakin's bright energy.

Perhaps it was only imagination, but Qui-Gon thought he could sense Obi-Wan within the stuffing of his favorite pillow, the one that Tricee had given him after he'd been confronted with Jard's first life-threatening injury. That pillow was nigh onto forty years old, but still as sturdy and comfortable as when he'd first clung to it after waking from a horrific nightmare. It had brought him such comfort then. Now, with the mingling of the essences of the two beings that had ever most brought him peace, it had proven indispensable for aiding him in sleeping through the night.

As were the dreams (his subconscious didn't care that he was angry with Obi-Wan) that had Obi-Wan returning to his bed and the two of them sleeping -- and doing other things -- in it together.

After one glance at Anakin’s room, he gave up the cause of finding the pass as hopeless, and instead went back to his own room and found his own. If Rianamu had been concerned that Anakin would not have time to go and come back, he couldn't dawdle.

He made it, with a few minutes to spare, and only almost managed to knock down one person during the trip.

Deciding that he was hungry, Qui-Gon detoured to the dining area on his way back after waving Anakin goodbye. Master Yoda was sitting alone there, but he pushed his hover chair away from the table even before Qui-Gon made his approach -- leaving most of his mash and gruel behind.

“Master Yoda, wait –”

"Late I am, Qui-Gon, stay I cannot."

No apology, of course; Master Yoda didn't do apologies. And it appeared as if the ancient one wasn't even going to wait so that Qui-Gon could walk out alongside him.

"Master, please. We are both going the same way…"

Qui-Gon half expected to see the elevator door closing before he could reach it, but that didn't make the rebuff any easier to take, and Yoda's gravelly "Talk later, we will," mollified him not at all. Yoda was up to something, or knew something, and was purposely avoiding him. Which meant it was all the more important for Qui-Gon to discover what Yoda was hiding.

But not while carrying a plate of food. He'd go back home and eat first, and then go troll hunting.

*********

"So, did you leave this out for Anakin to find, or for me?" His former padawan's face was harshly drawn as he rose from the position on the couch Qui-Gon had left no more than an hour ago.

Damn! Qui-Gon had forgotten that Obi-Wan had mentioned he'd be stopping by after the mid meal to gather up the last of his meager possessions. He’d intended to finish up with his journal entry, then at least find an empty box or two in preparation before Obi-Wan arrived. He'd thought if they stayed busy, but working together, the two of them might be able to find some level of conversation that didn't break down to awkward silences. Except Ani had called, and then he'd let his hunger distract him... and he'd left the damn journal out in the middle of the desk with a pen to mark his page, just as he might have left a note out for Obi-Wan to explain his absence.

Force take him, even if Obi-Wan had only read today's entry –

His former padawan didn’t pace, but he wasn't exactly staying in one place either, and the vibrating was all too familiar. Twitches and fidgeting had long been symptoms of Obi-Wan not being able to just walk away the temper he'd always had trouble controlling.

Qui-Gon wasn't about to have a conversation he really wasn't feeling up to, while standing in the doorway for all and sundry to overhear. He shut the door, then ignored Obi-Wan for a moment to place his lunch in cold storage, and close the cooler lid with more emphasis than was necessary before turning back. He didn't try to meet Obi-Wan's indignant stare, keeping his gaze instead on the journal clutched between Obi-Wan's whitened fingers.

"What's the matter, Qui-Gon, have you lost your hearing as well as your…"

At that Qui-Gon jerked his head up, ignoring his headache. "As well as my mind, Obi-Wan? Is that all you got from reading my private journal; that I've come back crazy?"

He was rewarded to see a flush of color deepen on Obi-Wan's fair skin in reaction, and couldn't help but be struck anew with how his former padawan had grown into everything Qui-Gon had ever hoped. At times Obi-Wan graced him with a smile Qui-Gon could melt against; still, it had ever been Obi-Wan's temper that had aroused Qui-Gon's deepest feelings.

From his first acknowledgement of Obi-Wan as a young, hopeful padawan candidate, Qui-Gon had been caught within Obi-Wan's spell and finally, now, he could admit that was the base reason he'd initially turned Obi-Wan down. He'd been ensnared, yet also fearful and resentful to find someone with so much passion, at a time when Xanatos had stripped away all of Qui-Gon's own.

"Actually, what I got from your writing was a surprising amount of pain, Qui-Gon. I don't profess to understand its basis -- after all, you don't even trust Master Tricee to understand and, while she might not have died and been resurrected as you have, she's always been the one you turned to before."

Qui-Gon did not care about Obi-Wan's professed sympathy. And he was wrong to deny this, increasing headache or not. "What's the matter, Padawan? Jealous of her, too?" It felt good to finally be having this out, to stop trying to hide his anger and resentment. He wanted to goad Obi-Wan enough to get only uncensored truth in return.

They really should have figured out how to fight each other before now, but Qui-Gon supposed that, after leaving the Order over Melinda-Daan and then practically groveling to be accepted back, it would only be now, as a knight, that Obi-Wan might feel comfortable enough to really, truly challenge him.

That no longer seemed to be a problem.

"Are you sure you just mean jealousy, _Master_? After all, you've written pages about jealousy _and_ disregard. I especially like the accusations of selfishness, although that really is a new one against me, isn't it? I thought your concern was that I was too self _less_. That I was too quick to defer to you and the other masters, and am too willing to subsume my own opinions so as to avoid any conflict. That I would never be able to stand beside you as an equal."

My equal, Qui-Gon snorted, but somehow managed to not say it out loud, for he knew it was the headache talking, and his anger -- their anger -- that was now feeding on one another and building as almost a third presence between them.

Light of the Force! He could _sense_ Obi-Wan’s anger! Wonder flooded him as his full Force sense finally – _finally!_ \- came back.

Its return was like his return to life, an unimaginable sweetness that was both terrifying and overwhelming flowing through him. So, too, was the sudden flow of Obi-Wan's emotions into his own. Yet shadows hung between them, born of their anger and their distance, fed by their doubts about one another and about their future.

It was too much.

"Obi-Wan," he entreated and reached out a hand across the couch in offering.

But Obi-Wan's came up to ward him away.

"Don't, Qui-Gon. Just don't." Some of the harshness behind Obi-Wan's tone had faded again. "It wasn't my place to discover your inner thoughts by any means other than you sharing them." The weariness replacing the anger struck Qui-Gon as worse. "Besides, you won't really mean any apology, and –”

"Apology? _My_ apology?" Qui-Gon's fury exploded again and with no conscious thought other than to remove the barrier standing between them, he waved his already raised hand and swept the couch aside with the Force, stopping only before he crashed it into the desk. Two brisk strides and he stood before Obi-Wan.

"What in the Force do I have to apologize for, Obi-Wan? For thinking? For writing those thoughts down? It's not like I spoke them aloud to accuse you, not to Tricee, or Dr. mm'Brai or even the damn High Council and your Master Yoda!"

"Master, please, I'm sorry. You shouldn't –”

Now Obi-Wan was reaching toward him and Qui-Gon could easily sense that fear had replaced the anger, hurt and guilt that had been swamping Obi-Wan's emotions, and bleeding over to Qui-Gon himself. But Qui-Gon wasn't ready for Obi-Wan's capitulation, simply because the boy was afraid of inducing an invalid into some sort of apoplexy.

He'd never struck Obi-Wan, even as a boy, but it took more effort than Qui-Gon could have imagined to open his fist instead, and seize Obi-Wan's shoulder in a blood-draining grip.

"Forget the damn healers, Obi-Wan! I'm better, I'm fine! And if I'm not, I resolve you of any culpability in my condition. _You_ are not going to dismiss this argument in that little mental file you long ago named Qui-Gon's foibles -- or bury it down under your overall feelings for me. You've read my inner thoughts and I'll be damned if I don't get yours in return."

Qui-Gon didn't have to even think it before the Force was responding to his emotions and desires. Any attempt Obi-Wan might have tried to free himself was shut down as easily as Qui-Gon might have contained and subdued a Forceless child. Something Obi-Wan didn't like one bit.

“Do you really want to hear that you're just as selfish a bastard as I am, Qui-Gon? All right, fine. You are also damned ungrateful and callous to boot! Yes, you've had a long, hard life, full of the kind of events and traumas that wouldn't even sound real to a holo-vid scripter -- but name me a Jedi who hasn't. _Does a god care that you've been stolen from his side_... Force forfend, Qui-Gon, does the Council know you were only doing all of it for some kind of reward in the end?"

Ah, so that's where he'd interrupted Obi-Wan's reading, no doubt backward from the most recent entry. Yet once again, seeing it try to twine itself to Obi-Wan's anger, Qui-Gon could recognize the hand of the Dark Side in the emotions between them.

"You know that is not why I am a Jedi, Obi-Wan," he sighed, releasing as much of his own anger as he could. It was important to make sure that Obi-Wan heard all of what Qui-Gon had written, that he might begin to understand.

Except Obi-Wan wasn't ready to listen. "Do I, Master? Then why all the histrionics about being alive again if it's not because you're afraid you've lost your chance at _heaven_? Everybody I know would be grateful to have something so precious as life returned to them!"

"Ah, but everyone else you know, Obi-Wan, has never actually _died_." Qui-Gon's anger wasn't ready to completely recede yet, and it didn't help that Obi-Wan's own was reaching a fevered pitch. "Until you do, _Padawan_ , you do not have the right to ascribe any motivation -- or emotion -- to someone who _has_. Perhaps you should read all of my words, or even ask me before you jump to your conclusions -"

"I did read them all, Qui-Gon... well, certainly the relevant ones. Words don't mean anything, remember? Just our actions as viewed within the Force. Well, fine. If you miss being with the Force so much, then here -"

Faster than a blink, Obi-Wan pressed his saber's hilt up against the same spot where the Sith had run Qui-Gon through. Shocked into speechlessness, Qui-Gon didn't even resist when Obi-Wan shifted forward into the hold Qui-Gon had been maintaining, and forced Qui-Gon's own fingers toward the activation mechanism. Both of them froze, eyes locked, breath stolen.

Time suspended.

Another blink, a held breath explosively released, and Qui-Gon found himself reacting automatically, flinging the saber away, then pushing a wild-eyed Obi-Wan down to sprawl on the floor.

"You know I can't, that I would never –” Words again failed him.

"But why not, Master?" and never before had Obi-Wan so reminded Qui-Gon of Xanatos. That alone was almost enough to send _him_ fleeing, but it was now actually _dangerous_ to leave things between him and Obi-Wan so unresolved. The Force was fairly thrumming in agitation and dark energies--

"Why not kill yourself? If you are _so_ sure you are not supposed to be alive, then fix it!" Obi-Wan's tunics had come askew and his hair was plastered with sweat. "You've never before let anyone else's opinions or feelings or _knowledge_ ," delivered with a twisted smile, "of the Force's will get in the way of what _you_ know is right –"

"Stop it, Obi-Wan! Listen to the Force's will yourself and see-"

"You first, Master. Dammit, you first!"

But Qui-Gon could only focus on the Darkness that had been only an eddy away ever since Tatooine. "Is that what this is about, Obi-Wan?" he asked as he grasped that last thought. "Is all of this about Anakin, or rather, about what I did to you in the Council Chamber? Do you really feel that I was acting only out of misplaced pride in discovering the Chosen One, and pique that no one else seemed to see it? Can't you just once accept that for all that the Force might have _hinted_ to you, it was screaming at me-"

"Actually, Qui-Gon, I did."

And just like that the Darkness was gone. As was the anger, the fear. But there was still plenty of pain.

Obi-Wan carefully regained his feet, taking a step to the side as he straightened his tunics and brushed a hand over his head, lingering for a moment against his neck, where his braid used to lie. He turned to face Qui-Gon, careful to maintain more than an arm's length of distance between them.

"You were right about Anakin, Qui-Gon. I was wrong. I was also being disrespectful of you and all that you had taught me. I had forgotten that, while we may interpret it differently, we do both listen to the same Force. So, _please_ , Master, what is it telling you now?"

"I was supposed to die on Naboo, Obi-Wan."

"Yes," and sadness now painted the colors and melody of the Force, and Obi-Wan's tone.

"You don't know what I saw." Qui-Gon stopped himself from closing the gap between them again when he realized he had started to do so for his own comfort instead of Obi-Wan's. "My words -- no writing can convey the horrors of seeing the Republic split into civil war and then fall. There were so many deaths –“

"And your own master's betrayal... And Anakin's -"

Qui-Gon didn't even realize that Obi-Wan had said them, as the words were only echoing Qui-Gon's own thoughts. "But it all needs to happen in order to expose the Sith Master, to make him vulnerable -"

"To make us all vulnerable, you mean?"

Now that intruded, and forced Qui-Gon back into paying attention to Obi-Wan. Hadn't there been sadness, sympathy --

"Gods of our shared ancestors, Qui-Gon! You're not just talking about the end of the Sith; the Jedi were destroyed in that future too! I'm sorry, but I just don't see the value in that kind of tradeoff –”

Qui-Gon's stomach tightened as a riot of emotion again rushed through him. "But the _Future_ , Obi-Wan …the Force demands -"

"The Force demands nothing, or so you've told me all my life, Master." It was now Obi-Wan's turn to close the distance between, to reach out and take hold of Qui-Gon. " _We_ are the ones who make demands of the Force. We pin our hopes and expectations and yes, even our failings on it. Those were _your_ teachings! Nothing, not even the future is pre-ordained, otherwise we wouldn't have visions and make vague prophecies -- we wouldn't _need_ to."

Obi-Wan's touch was a brand through Qui-Gon's tunic. "By all that we've meant to each other, Qui-Gon, how do you think I could have lived for ten years with knowing the exact moment of your death, if I didn't also know that I had a chance to change it? I may have a formidable strength of will, but _no_ one is that strong -"

Ten years? Obi-Wan had known about Naboo -- had had a vision of his death ten years ago? Yet had never told him? Had never said anything, given not even a hint --

Stunned by this revelation, it took Qui-Gon a moment to realize that Obi-Wan had faltered, his face now as pale as it had started the argument flushed; and that he stood swaying against Qui-Gon's own ebbing strength. Qui-Gon couldn't help but reach out to steady him, his anger returning in full force when Obi-Wan pulled away as if it was Qui-Gon's touch that burned.

"You're right, Obi-Wan,” he scowled. “Such strength of will, you will _never_ have. Or such a strength of shielding. There is no way _you_ could have kept something as momentous as that so completely from my awareness, especially while professing to love me."

That brought an actual flinch from Obi-Wan, and a measure of satisfaction in the back of Qui-Gon's thoughts. Except both reactions were wrong... the whole emotional morass was wrong, and uncharacteristic, and if Qui-Gon could just get a handle on his own emotions --

There was something about this they were both missing…

"I'm not lying, Qui-Gon." So pale now... so sad and troubled. Confused. "About knowing then -- or now. About loving you, but... These memories, your doubts, believe what you must, Qui-Gon, as you obviously don’t believe me."

They were both swaying now from the surfeit of emotions careening between them, one to the other and back until it felt like Qui-Gon's brain had whiplash.

"There is truth here somewhere, Qui-Gon, but I am beginning to think how we interpret it is another difference between us. If _your_ truth truly includes the belief that the Republic -- that all of existence -- would be better off without the Jedi, then I fear our differences have proven too much and can never be bridged."

A goodbye? Obi-Wan was certainly moving away from Qui-Gon and toward the entrance to Qui-Gon's quarters, was now standing in the open door, although he did pause.

"I'm sorry, Master Jinn, but if I have any hope of surviving my next mission -- hell, in just getting through the rest of today -- I have to believe that the tenets and goals taught to me by my master have _some_ meaning, That the Order -- his Order -- _is_ a force for good.

”And fuck you, if you think I am ever going to apologize for being happy that you're alive."

Doors in the Temple can't slam shut. But minds can.

The total cessation of Obi-Wan's presence in the back of Qui-Gon's mind sent him to his knees. Or maybe it was just the utter finality of Obi-Wan's words. Death hadn't been so final.

Nor as painful.

**********

Fuck you if you think I'm ever going to apologize for being happy that you're alive.

It was only as the alarm on his wall chrono chimed that Qui-Gon regained any sense of how much time had passed since Obi-Wan's departure. He'd managed to write down Obi-Wan's parting words in the journal he was now cradling to his chest, but could go no further.

There was something to Obi-Wan's words, his actions -- and, yes, his presence within the Force -- that was now nagging at Qui-Gon, even to the point of distracting him from his constant replaying of all else that had come to pass between them.

Something about that final, damning, non-apology.

Obi-Wan had said he was happy Qui-Gon was alive. Not that he was happy in having been able to bring him back.

Had it just been semantics? Brevity of words?

Or had Obi-Wan really not held sole responsibility for bringing him back, as Qui-Gon had thought?

Obi-Wan had been born a plain speaker. It had taken years of hair-graying (and hair-pulling) to teach Obi-Wan how to prevaricate. Between the two of them it was always truth, of course, if sometimes truth a bit varnished. Even for the sake of a mission, Obi-Wan did not lie convincingly, and found Qui-Gon's use of Force manipulation to persuade someone to the proper way of thinking abhorrent.

They had reached a compromise only after Obi-Wan had acknowledged the importance -- and acceptability -- of omission.

At this moment Qui-Gon would still swear by all that he stood for that Obi-Wan had not lied during their confrontation. Nor had he been lying about his visions. Yet Qui-Gon maintained there was no way Obi-Wan -- _on his own_ \-- could have withheld such knowledge of Qui-Gon's death from him -- not at sixteen, not over the ten subsequent years of their interactions, and certainly not once the mission had come upon them.

Everything had been normal between them during that first journey to Naboo. Obi-Wan had offered nothing but a vague discontent and, while Qui-Gon might have acted unconcerned, he _always_ took Obi-Wan's unease seriously. He had always refused, however, to let Obi-Wan dwell on abstract portents that could in turn become self-fulfilling prophecy. None of this had stopped Qui-Gon from pushing to discover whether Obi-Wan felt anything more concrete, especially after the Trade Federation had murdered their pilots and destroyed their courier ship.

If Obi-Wan _had_ known something …

The only logical conclusion was that Obi-Wan had not lied about having the vision, but that the memories of it had been… dispelled in some way. Obi-Wan could have done it to himself: subconsciously blocking out something - traumatic enough at twenty-five - that would have sent him fleeing at fifteen or sixteen.

Fleeing right to Master Yoda, since Qui-Gon had ever shown little acceptance of such a Force gift as prescience.

On his own, Obi-Wan could not, nor would he have, concealed such a thing for so many years. But Yoda had the ability to blur such knowledge in Obi-Wan's mind: to rob it of the terror and pain, while leaving the basic memory tucked away behind a block that Obi-Wan might have had little awareness of. Even if the wily troll hadn’t had a special fondness for Qui-Gon's former padawan, Qui-Gon couldn't see how any padawan would be well served to have such a horror lurking in his conscious, daily thought. Indeed, Qui-Gon was showing the same consideration for Anakin: he had no intention of even hinting at the potential dark fate of the young boy from Tatooine.

Now that he _did_ know about Anakin’s possible future, Qui-Gon had vowed to keep it from unfolding.

Might not Yoda, so many years ago, have vowed to stop the fate unfolding that began with Qui-Gon’s death? And might he also have made his determination clear to Obi-Wan, to comfort the boy? After all, it was not only Obi-Wan who was prone to visions. If a young padawan had had those dreams, what might Yoda himself have seen?

But why, then, hadn't Yoda told _him_? If not around the time of Obi-Wan's distress so that Qui-Gon could help -- or even on the eve of going to Naboo, since it would certainly have affected how either he or Obi-Wan had conducted themselves during the mission -- then at least now, when it was obvious that Qui-Gon was floundering with regard to his resurrection.

Yet Yoda was instead going out of his way to avoid seeing him and had not yet answered even one of Qui-Gon's comm queries.

Looking back over what had happened and what he had been shown, Qui-Gon realized he had focused only on his own contribution in that future: that he had been the first sacrifice -- the _needed_ sacrifice -- upon which everything else had been built.

But, if Yoda had shared any of the visions Qui-Gon himself had been granted after death, how might he have judged Obi-Wan's rush to become Anakin's master, or Obi-Wan's doubts in his own abilities that, in turn, caused Anakin to doubt not only Obi-Wan, but the entire Order? Did Yoda take personally Jard's disillusionment in the wisdom and efficacy of the Jedi, which had led Jard to stumble over the very fine line between trying to change what was wrong from within, to becoming changed by the very things he was fighting?

Had Master Yoda _disagreed_ that the death of the Jedi in body was not worth the end of the Sith?

Most of a millennia had passed since the Sith had been anything but rumor, folklore and the punch-line to all threats and lessons about the Dark Side. But how would someone who had lived through the tail end of those days, whose own master had been killed in one of the last forays, deal hundred of years later with knowing about the eventual resurrection of the Jedi's only true enemy?

Could _any_ future be worse, for Yoda, than the one Qui-Gon's death had foretold?

 _Your focus determines your reality_.

Did all the answers lie in the koan Qui-Gon had adopted and based his life upon? Did Yoda also subscribe?

If Qui-Gon had known about _that_ future before he'd become a part of it, if he had then had the age, experience and skill Master Yoda did, might he also not have changed his focus, and thus altered reality?

Wasn't Qui-Gon himself, even now, without those factors, challenging the gods?

*********

Since all of the questions seemed to lead to Yoda, that's where Qui-Gon went.

He wondered if Obi-Wan might have gone there too, with questions of his own, but when Yoda opened the door, Qui-Gon was surprised that it was Anakin whom he saw, sitting beyond the privacy shield separating Yoda's front room from the rest of his quarters. His surprise grew when this time he was not rebuffed again by the tiny master who greeted him; was even warmly invited in.

"Finally see that abandoned you, we have not? Come to join us for tea and company, you will?"

The tea service was set up already, a small pot and two cups amidst a scattering of pillows and low surfaces that Yoda sometimes grudgingly set out for guests. Since there were only two cups, and Qui-Gon couldn't have been expected... perhaps the 'us' and the two cups meant that Obi-Wan _was_ due soon; for Anakin didn't drink tea.

On the other hand, knowing the crafty troll as well as he did, it was just as likely that the 'us' was Yoda speaking for the Force, and that Qui-Gon’s arrival had been anticipated.

Was he really up for that layered a conversation?

"Actually, I've just come to collect my padawan, Master. That is, if he can bear leaving your obviously more interesting offerings."

Anakin had looked up as Qui-Gon had filled the doorway, but had then immediately returned his attention to the three inches of mud that made up the floor everywhere in Master Yoda's quarters except the front room.

"Sit, you will. Finished his studies, Anakin has not."

Wondering just what those studies were, Qui-Gon nodded and let the door close behind him. He returned Anakin's wave and smile before shoving a few of the larger cushions against the nearest side wall and lowering himself down. "Thank you for opening up your home to him for all this time, Master."

"Thank me you will, only after he showers, I think," the old one cackled as he offered one of the cups of tea by hand, and then levitated his own to the nest of pillows he'd made himself comfortable in. "Glad you all are, that first priority for repair, are Master Yoda's sonics, hmmm?"

"No doubt the aroma as well as the exotic houseguests you entertain in your special environment is a large part of its appeal to Anakin. But I also appreciate that you've gone out of your way to make him feel comfortable, Master. We both know his first impression of you wasn't... favorable."

"Or his second and third. Distrust me, he did."

Taking care not to choke on the tea he'd begun sipping, Qui-Gon used the cup to hide his smile at the understatement.

”Had cause, he did. Even now, sure I am not that likes me he does, but _interesting_ I am, he has discovered."

Qui-Gon might have thought he imagined the wink Yoda then gave him, save for the realization that the impact of Yoda's gimer stick against his shin had been pulled from its generally bruising -- and, therefore, memorable -- vigor.

Damn, he hadn't quite picked a spot far enough away. And Master Yoda was in a playful mood.

"Interesting, _you_ have rediscovered I am too, hmmm?"

With a last glance to make sure that Anakin was still fully occupied, Qui-Gon offered something more like a glare in response to that too knowing tone and smug grin.

"How did Obi-Wan bring me back?"

Yoda didn't seem insulted, or surprised by the question. He took a sip of his own tea, never breaking eye contact, and then set it down on one of the raised, hard surfaces. "Not why, Qui-Gon, you are asking? Or why, do you think you know?"

Never answer a question directly, when you can ask one of your own. There were times -- most times -- that Qui-Gon thought Master Yoda should be in the Senate instead of shepherding the Jedi.

"Because he's in love with me is only a part of the reason," Qui-Gon prevaricated himself.

That got him another twinkle and slightly raised ears.

"In love with him, keep you from dying, it did not."

"I had little choice, Master," Qui-Gon made no attempt to curb his sarcasm. "My wound was too severe to survive. Even if my love for Obi-Wan had been the only thought on my mind at the time, it was too much for you or even Master Healer Esme to heal, much less Obi-Wan, no matter how much we both might have wished it different."

At least the ears hadn't flattened yet, the most ready indicator of Master Yoda's moods.

"Death is an important facet of our lives,” Qui-Gon forged ahead. “As men and as Jedi, this is one of our most sacred teachings. Luminous beings and all of that, remember? So how -- and why -- was Obi-Wan, and therefore I, allowed to supersede that one absolute which even Jedi must abide?"

"Accept it, you both did. Vigil, Obi-Wan stood, at your pyre. Great respect did he and the entire High Council show you for your sacrifice."

Stuck on the concept of being shown any respect from the entirety of the High Council, it took a moment for the rest of Yoda's words to sink in. Qui-Gon nearly spilled his tea.

"My pyre? But what... how... that's –” The tea was quickly set down. "With great respect, Master Yoda, I am looking damn good for charred bones and an urnful of ashes."

"Damn good for a broken-down human warrior of fifty-seven, too!" Yoda positively cackled. "Like forty-seven, they promised, younger even, they thought possible."

They? A feeling, not exactly of horror, but something that was still making his hair raise and his skin crawl, began creeping through Qui-Gon. Then the horror came, with the realization that he'd been blaming Obi-Wan for something his padawan hadn't been responsible for.

"What did you do, Yoda?" Asking, yes, even demanding, but Qui-Gon _knew_. There could only be one explanation.

"That which was necessary, Master Jinn," Yoda responded, his ears now as level as his tone. No trace of whimsy remained, and at once Qui-Gon was reminded that his own master deemed Yoda to be the most formidable and dangerous Jedi currently alive.

"If details you insist upon, forwarded will be the file."

But Qui-Gon refused to be intimidated. He rose to his feet and took a step forward so that he positively loomed over the little master.

"Details? Like how I didn't really lose my connection with the Force -- like how you instructed someone to take it from me, so I wouldn't figure things out before my old mind and new body reconnected? You cloned me, dammit! You stole Obi-Wan's memories! You've manipulated and schemed and... Did you ever discuss any of this with anyone else? Not Mace, because he wouldn't have been able to keep it from me any more than Obi-Wan could have. And not Jard... Did you even _think_ about getting someone's consent before playing god?"

Yoda's eyes were darker, angrier than Qui-Gon had ever seen them and his mouth had curled into a snarl, but Qui-Gon didn't care.

“So what happened, Yoda? Something went wrong in the reintegration procedure, didn't it? That's why it took so long, why I was able to retain memories of being dead. Something got screwed up and I didn't come back. Not until you convinced someone with whom I'd once had a strong enough bond -- someone who could drag me away… Jard wouldn't go along with it, would he? And so you conscripted Obi-Wan back into your sordid little plot –”

"And willing he was to be so!" Yoda snarled. "The procedure, the body, nothing about this he knew, until presented he was with what needed to be done."

Qui-Gon had enough presence of mind to realize that they were attracting Anakin's attention, and took a moment to reassure his padawan by gesture that Anakin should stay where he was.

If he tried to look at it rationally, Qui-Gon really didn't know why he'd found Yoda's actions so surprising. He had already figured out a lot of it, had even begun justifying Yoda's actions …

But that had been before he'd learned the full extent of Yoda's involvement, and confirmed that Obi-Wan had always been an unwitting participant.

"What would you have done with the clone if I hadn’t died on Naboo, Yoda? Kept it as a back up for another time, another death? What if Obi-Wan had died with me? Surely even you didn't expect Jard to participate. He would have left –”

"My padawan was he, before your master he became. Accept his duty, he would have!"

More thunder than snarl now, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure if he'd really ever seen Yoda this taken by his own emotions. It was refreshing, although probably in a bad way, to find out the great Master Yoda was just as controlled by his passions as were the rest of the lesser species.

"Did you even pay attention to the future you so blithely shattered, Master?" Qui-Gon asked, finding his calm more easily the more agitated Yoda became. "Accept such a duty, Jard would not! Not when born out of such corruption of the very tenets he espouses."

"See you, the future, did _you_ not, Qui-Gon Jinn?" The crack of the gimer stick against the floor would have broken any material other than the steel Yoda had chosen for his rooms. "Consign Jard to such a fate, you would have? The rest of us, perhaps, but your master, or an innocent like Anakin? Your Obi-Wan?" Yoda leaned heavily on his walking stick.

"You had no right, Yoda." Qui-Gon turned away, no longer angry, but saddened. He was still a catalyst to the Order's decline, only now he'd have to live through it.

"Please send Anakin home when he is ready. And know this. If you ever try to manipulate Anakin's mind without my consent, as you did Obi-Wan’s, I will take my padawans with me when I resign from the Order."

Yoda’s body was shaking. "Threaten me, you will not! Leave, you cannot, until understand, you do!"

"I'm afraid that even if I live to be your age, Yoda, I will never understand." And Qui-Gon was willing to let it go at that: he'd already proven to both Obi-Wan and himself that he couldn't commit suicide, even were he convinced it could have righted things.

"Leave, you will not!" Yoda barked again, and gathered the Force to reinforce his command.

Qui-Gon wasn't sure if Yoda simply intended to lock the door, to hold him in place, or to manipulate his mind, but he wasn't going to stand there passively to find out. Yes, Yoda had lived hundreds upon hundreds of years and was considered the best -- the most powerful -- of them since the days of Kaja Sinis or Noni Sunrider, yet in this one moment, Qui-Gon knew he could block Yoda's intent.

Still, the depth of what answered his own call stunned Qui-Gon. While it was only a slice of a fraction of the power he'd become part of after dying, his body now felt as if it flowed with the Force instead of blood. All of Anakin’s thoughts opened to him. Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan too -- and even Jard -- both miles away and upon different levels of the city, but now returning in all haste as Qui-Gon's need flowed out along their bonds and began to draw them back.

It was a heady feeling, humbling but also intoxicating, and Qui-Gon knew he could lose himself forever to simply contemplating and trying to quantify what he was experiencing. Was this the Dark Side? Was this how it trapped Jedi, by being so full to bursting of Light?

But no, he could see where tendrils of darkness were already weaving molecular-width strands around Anakin's fears and insecurities, could see how disillusionment was tainting Jard and guilt had begun to stain Obi-Wan. He could sense, too, how his own anger, still too near the surface of his thoughts and fueled by his passion, could burst from tiny spark to cataclysmic conflagration should he simply will it.

 _There_ was the Dark Side; massive, looming and, yes, so eager to envelop.

Were he to fall, Jard and Anakin would too. If Obi-Wan somehow did not, it would be he who would suffer the most for Qui-Gon and Yoda's actions.

He'd suffered quite enough from them already.

"You had no right, Yoda," Qui-Gon repeated, as he returned his awareness from the power within his mind to his surroundings.

While he'd been... distracted, Anakin had come to his side and now they both stood before the ancient master. Qui-Gon had always seen Yoda's gimer stick as a weapon or a prop, but now the old one looked as if he needed it simply to hold himself upright. "You had no right, but I understand that you felt you had to try."

To see Yoda shrunken in upon himself, wary if not actually fearful, brought Qui-Gon no satisfaction or pride -- yet only the smallest amount of sympathy. He didn't see himself as somehow greater for this newfound connection to the Force, just as he didn't see Yoda diminished from finally baring his flaws.

Yoda shook himself, as if doing so would also shake away his vulnerabilities. “Understand more, you will soon enough, Qui-Gon Jinn. About prophesies and the Chosen One, about the Force. Forgive me you may not, but if not me, who then? Another Jedi? The _Other_ for his worship of the Dark? Needed you still are, as is Jard. Anakin. Obi-Wan. Be the last, I will not, as long as breath my body will still take. Condemn them, you might have, but I cannot -- I _will_ not -- even if futile my actions be. Defenders of all life are we sworn, yet act in our own defense, must we Jedi sometimes do."

There was only one way to answer that. Qui-Gon took hold of Anakin's hand, unmindful of the mud squelching between their clasped fingers, and nodded. "May the Force be with you, Master Yoda," he offered, before leading Anakin to the door.

"With us all, may the Force be, Qui-Gon Jinn."

********

"You summoned us, Padawan?"

Once upon a time, Qui-Gon would have been surprised to see Jard sitting willingly next to Obi-Wan on Qui-Gon's couch, both of them sharing one of Qui-Gon's finer bottles of wine. The number of times his former master had interacted with his former padawan was fewer than he had fingers, and they had never broken bread -- or a bottle -- between them. Both of their faces were softened by the golden glow of the sunset that was the only light in the room.

"I suppose I did, Master," Qui-Gon said, perhaps too lightly, but he needed something to break the spell of the moment. "I'm sorry, were you in the middle of something important?"

Anakin looked positively shocked by Qui-Gon's tone and even Obi-Wan looked a bit startled, but Jard simply smiled and inclined his head in Qui-Gon's direction. He set down his glass, stood, and then gave Qui-Gon his own shock by lowering himself to one knee in front of Anakin, that he might be of a more reasonable height to meet his grand padawan.

It was rare that Qui-Gon was caught speechless, but as ever, Obi-Wan took the initiative to fill the silence before it became awkward. "Anakin, I'd like to introduce you to Qui-Gon's training master, Jard Dooku."

"You're the one who taught Master Qui-Gon how to be a Jedi?" Anakin asked, voice -- and aura -- filled with curiosity and wonder.

There would be plenty of time now, for Qui-Gon to help Anakin deal with the other things that also cluttered the boy's aura. Something that for the first time since his reawakening, Qui-Gon could actually, fully, appreciate.

"As Master Yoda taught me, young Anakin," Jard said with a cheerfulness long missing to Qui-Gon's ears. "And I think it is my turn to steal you off for the night, since I have yet to have the pleasure, and Qui-Gon has positively _years_ ahead of him to experience your bright company. But only if that is all right with you, Padawan Skywalker."

Qui-Gon had to wonder whether there might be one or two more wine bottles lying empty behind the couch or under its seat cushions, to see Jard so... effusive. But Anakin had no such suspicions or presuppositions, and answered Jard with enthusiasm. "That sounds wizard!"

Anakin extended his hand and Jard, to his credit, hesitated for less than an eyeblink before taking it within his own, viscous mud and all.

"Maybe you can give me some tips on how to figure my master out, then, Sir. I've asked Obi-Wan, but all he keeps telling me is that I'll find out soon enough on my own. I know that is supposed to be better, but I also think I'm going to need every advantage I can get and-Obi-Wan just doesn't understand. I-started-out-as-a-slave-you-see-not-an-initiate-and-so-I–”

Qui-Gon watched in utter bemusement as the two of them disappeared through the door, no doubt off for Jard's own quarters -- perhaps with a stop by one of the shower rooms first. Even he should probably disappear to clean up -- except that Obi-Wan was already taking Qui-Gon's robe from him and was handing him the glass Obi-Wan had been drinking from.

"They'll be a good influence on each other, I think," Obi-Wan offered as he moved past Qui-Gon to hang the robe on the hook just aside the entry door.

"As you and Master Yoda were?" Qui-Gon turned toward him with some bitterness, but that wasn't even fair to Master Yoda, and especially not to the ever patient man now standing back before him. Qui-Gon took a sip of the wine to cover up his sudden discomfort, then had to stop before being overwhelmed by the hint of Obi-Wan he could also taste.

He'd obviously need to work on getting a handle on his returned -- and new -- connection with the Force.

"There are always things a padawan cannot tell his own master, but needs to say to someone with the same type of connection." Just a hint of the smile Qui-Gon so loved was beginning to surface on Obi-Wan's face. "And I suspect I'm too closely linked to you in his mind for Anakin to be comfortable sharing confidences with me for too much longer."

"Are we still linked, Obi-Wan?" Which was a stupid question given the ease in which they had touched each other's minds less than an hour ago, but Qui-Gon had no doubt that Obi-Wan knew what he was really asking. Especially since a lot more of the smile was now offered, even if Obi-Wan's eyes were still shaded.

Obi-Wan nodded and raised on his toes to draw the glass back down, that he might take a sip from it while Qui-Gon kept hold. "I think we've proven that not even death will break that link."

"We were both used, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon sighed. "But you should have told me what Yoda had you do."

A quick frown in return, and a step away, although this time Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan wasn't trying to run from him or his own emotions.

"Yoda said he'd talk to you -- and that _you_ could then explain to me how they just happened to have a cloned body of you aged and prepared." A pause, a stricken look. "I assumed you had been in on it from the beginning. I had no idea…" another pause, as if Obi-Wan was working himself into saying it, "…I never imagined that you _blamed_ me for your resurrection until I read your journal. You might not have had the Force, but you still had formidable shields and I couldn't read you, and then you wouldn't talk to me –”

"And for that, I do ask for your forgiveness, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon followed him. "I knew I was intentionally keeping secrets, and yes, they were tearing me apart just as much as were all of my doubts and fears…" Qui-Gon stopped when Obi-Wan took a deep breath and looked down.

"So do you, Obi-Wan?"

"Forgive you?" Obi-Wan looked back up, the smile returned and this time Obi-Wan’s dimples also peeked through. "For most of it, Qui-Gon," he said a bit more soberly, before falling into a half laugh. "And I imagine I'll even get over the fact that you didn't trust me well enough. It's not as if it's the first time you have felt that."

And now it was as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds that perpetually formed above the sea that was Obi-Wan's eyes, while his skin glowed in the defuse Coruscant sunlight.

"I suppose I deserve that." Qui-Gon brought the glass back to his lips but merely sampled where Obi-Wan's had rested, instead of sipping the wine itself.

Maybe this was all too easy, maybe they were both just being selfish, but if Master Yoda was correct about it being all right to sometimes protect themselves first…

"It was never because I didn't love you enough, Obi-Wan."

"I know, Qui-Gon. And it's _not_ always because I love you too much."

Qui-Gon had to give his own laugh at that. "It seems we're to find a balance of our own to make this work, my Padawan." He tipped the last of the dark wine into Obi-Wan's mouth and began to let the glass fall from his fingers, only half paying attention as Obi-Wan gave a little wave and used the Force to set it down on the desk.

"I would like that very much, my Master," he was offered after Obi-Wan swallowed. Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to follow that wine with his tongue.

This time he didn't shy away from the moment that froze around them. He let it fill him, locked it within his memory that he might one day recall it in perfect detail, and knew that Obi-Wan was doing the same. And then the moment passed, and they both shifted in tandem, without needing to say anything more. Walking slowly in step to cross the rest of the room, they came to a stop side by side before the view of the planet cityscape that was Coruscant. Shoulders and hips touched, then hands, unmindful of the mud that only interlaced their fingers together more firmly.

"Was I wrong, Obi-Wan?"

Shadow now fell across Obi-Wan's face as he tilted it up towards Qui-Gon. "Wrong in feeling alienated or in feeling betrayed, my Master?"

Qui-Gon chuffed and shook his head. The light -- or shadow -- would never flatter him so well. "Pick one."

A frown, but one more thoughtful than filled with remorse or guilt, and for that Qui-Gon felt himself lighten.

"Well, as I said before, Qui-Gon -- although you might have had cause to doubt my sincerity then -- while I really do not understand your reluctance in being alive again, I do understand it has caused you pain." Obi-Wan’s fingertips rose to flutter against Qui-Gon's jaw. "That is something I have ever needed to ease within you."

Qui-Gon leaned into that comfort for just a moment before gesturing with their joined hands to the sunset. "I was so tired, Obi-Wan. And it was so peaceful …"

The sun was nearly gone, but now the glow of the planet's habitations began to glitter and shine, that the darkness might be thwarted a little longer.

Obi-Wan's eyes blinked and then turned to follow Qui-Gon's before he laid his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder, gentle and undemanding. "Poorly timed jokes about your now revived stamina and youth aside, Qui-Gon, I can only promise that I will do my best to relieve the one and help you regain the other." There was a sudden tightening in Obi-Wan's clasp as well as his body. "But I still won't apologize for being glad -- thrilled beyond belief, actually -- to have you back."

Qui-Gon tilted his own head until there too, they were touching. "I should never have put the onus of my despair solely on you, my Obi-Wan. I'm not sure -- and I hope with all of my heart that I never live to find out one way or the other -- how I would have reacted were our positions reversed."

"And if you had been in Master Yoda's position?"

Qui-Gon couldn't help but jerk a little at the question, but Obi-Wan ignored it as Qui-Gon had Obi-Wan's own moment of stiffness, other than lifting his head and again shifting so that they were facing one another.

"Don't ask me that yet, Obi-Wan. I need to retain some of my sense of outrage," he continued while letting some of his relief out, too. "Surprisingly, Mace has been about the only one who hasn't pissed me off since my return."

He surprised a laugh out of Obi-Wan. "If it helps, Master, Mace has already complained to me about how much longer this –” and no one could quite encompass the totality of 'this' with just a half shrug and a twist of a smile quite like Obi-Wan "--will likely extend your field career. He's been dead set on saddling you with a Council position…Your unique insight into the workings of the Force is far too valuable to be wasted on some dirtball or rattrap between the stars."

As imitations went, it was passable, save for Obi-Wan not being quite able to get through it all with a straight face.

"And?" Qui-Gon asked a bit archly, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his own smile. It was obvious that Obi-Wan was fishing for a reaction, yet had more to say.

Obi-Wan gave another wide grin, which earned him a smudge of mud from chin to cheek, as Qui-Gon brought up their joined hands to rub his own over Obi-Wan's now exposed dimple.

"Hey !"

"And?" Qui-Gon repeated.

Obi-Wan would probably never be able to stop himself from answering that tone of voice. "And Master Adi has managed -- with Master Koon’s help -- to head Mace off each time he's raised the vote. _She's_ convinced the rest of the Council that your experience against the Sith is more relevant to at the Order's immediate future, and would be better utilized…elsewhere."

Qui-Gon groaned, and turned it into a bit of a growl when Obi-Wan took control of their clasped hands and daubed mud on the end of Qui-Gon's nose -- still broken. _And why would the healers have done that to a newly cloned body?_ But Qui-Gon supposed allowing it to stay unbroken would have given Yoda's game away that much earlier, and to more than just Qui-Gon.

But Obi-Wan’s attention had moved from Qui-Gon’s nose back to his hair, and bare jaw. "You are growing it all back, aren't you?"

Obi-Wan looked so damn earnest that Qui-Gon wanted to say no, but they never out-and-out lied to each other, even in teasing. "You don't like me freshly shorn?"

"No,” Obi-Wan stated matter-of-factly. "I can think of multiple benefits for this younger you, but not a clean-shaven you. You don't look like my master."

Qui-Gon tilted his head. "But I'm _not_ your master any longer, Obi –”

"Oh, don't even start with that, _Qui-Gon_. You will always be my master, just as Master Dooku is still yours and Master Yoda his -"

Afraid that Obi-Wan might start a whole recitation of masters and padawans, Qui-Gon leaned down and pressed a small kiss to quiet _his_ padawan. Finding one more thing to willingly get lost within.

Obi-Wan, however, only looked wistful when they broke apart.

"What?" he said, with a kiss this time to Obi-Wan's forehead.

The smile Obi-Wan offered when he again raised his head flowed into wryness. “My whole life has been focused on becoming a Knight of the Order, but all I can think of right now is how much I envy Anakin. I _think_ the jealousy there is not so much from being replaced -" and he held up a hand when Qui-Gon would have protested.

"Yes, replaced, Qui-Gon, but only as your padawan. I know I still have my place in your life." Obi-Wan initiated the gentle kiss this time and then laid his head against Qui-Gon's chest. "I never saw… never understood… what you did for me -- what you _gave_ to me as my teacher. And now it's Anakin's turn, but he won't appreciate it any more than I did until -"

"There are none of us who can see and understand the true relationship between a teacher and student, Obi-Wan, until we step outside of it. And sometimes not even then." Qui-Gon lowered his head against Obi-Wan's. "Jard and I certainly did not and do not have the same closeness you and I share -- disregarding the sexual attraction between us, please," he said, before Obi-Wan could do anything but open his mouth to interrupt. "I value all that he taught me and feel some amount of closeness to him, of course. But it is more truly respect than affection between us. I imagine you would find him saying the same about me -- and about his relationship with Yoda."

"So you don't respect me?"

Qui-Gon tightened their embrace, muffling Obi-Wan's laughter, but he still heard what sounded suspiciously like a squeak, and relented just enough that Obi-Wan might be able to breathe properly again.

"I think, rather, that I should insist that you help me train Anakin so that you may understand it all."

"And why does that sound more like a threat than an opportunity?"

"Because it is a long-standing tradition for masters to wish upon their padawans the students that they deserve."

Their eyes met and Obi-Wan's were twinkling. "Payback, you mean."

Qui-Gon nodded with a wide grin. "Which means, if you take it back through our direct line, that Yoda must have been a trial from the very beginning."

“You're not going to forgive him for a long time, are you?"

"Obi-Wan -"

"No, you're right, Qui-Gon. It's not my place to interfere between the two of you –”

Qui-Gon wasn't sure whether to smile, frown or pout. "Your place is beside me, Obi-Wan, and so we will both have to better learn that anything each of us does will have an effect on the other. Besides," he prompted with a wry twist to his lips, "you want to interfere -- intercede -- between us. I know that you like him, Obi-Wan. You have _always_ liked that nosy old troll."

"But I've always like you better, Master," Obi-Wan said with a smile of his own that promised that this -- that _every_ thing -- would work out.

"Prove it, Obi-Wan."

\- Finis -


End file.
